


Bullet Holes

by theshizniiit



Category: Common Law
Genre: Blood, Coma, Gun Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshizniiit/pseuds/theshizniiit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Wes and Travis, the bank that they go to gets hit by robbers, and they can't stop arguing, even with guns pointed at each other. One of the guys decides to shoot as a warning."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"This is all your fault."

"How is this MY fault?" Travis snaps, eyes darting between the gun pointing at them and his partners face.

"Well if you wouldn’t have forgotten your wallet we wouldn’t be here in the first place." Wes snaps, glaring at Travis. He could feel the heat rising in his face.

"Why is it always MY fault?" Travis says.

“ _BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP_.” The masked man yells, warily eyeing his colleagues who were packing money into their duffel bags, the few people in the bank cowering as three of them paced up and down the length of the building, shouting threats at them.

Travis and Wes were on their knees, facing each other with one of the men shouting over them. They were separate from the rest, but they could see the terrified faces of the other hostages through the glass door. When they had gotten held up in the bank with civilians the thugs had seen their badges, and ordered them into their current position. Away from the other hostages and the crime taking place, on their knees in one of the back rooms. Facing each other. He’d taken their guns. So they did what they did best. Besides fucking and solving crimes, of course.

Bickering.

"You know what your problem is, Travis?" Wes snaps, as the gunman standing over them becomes more agitated and nervous, gun shifting in his hand. He wasn’t about to shoot anyone, the detective concluded. He had the safety on, his hand was shaking, and the look in his eyes was completely terrified. He had no business holding a gun when he wouldn’t use it.

“ _QUIET!_ " The gunman yells, hand shaking as he holds the detectives at gunpoint.

"I’m sure you’re going to tell me aren’t you?" Travis gripes back at him, rolling his eyes.

"You never listen to me. If we would have just gone to the office first-"

"Well, I’m _sorry_ ,” He says sarcastically, glaring at his partner, “I didn’t know the bank would be getting  _robbed_. My  _apologies._ ”

"See that’s not an apology." Wes hissed,"You never apologize. You just think you don’t have to-"

“ _I didn’t know this would happen!_ " Travis shouts, face turning an interesting shade of red, " _I’m not going to apologize for something that I didn’t even know was going to happen!_ ”

"You don’t take responsibility for  _anything,_ " Wes yells.

“ _THIS ISN’T MY FAULT_.” Travis screams, “You just pick at everything I do. No wonder Alex-“

“ _Don’t you fucking dare_ ,” Wes hisses, words dripping acid, “Don’t you dare drag her into this.”

Travis gives him a smug smile.

The blond sees red and he hears himself hiss,”No wonder no one wanted you.”

Travis’ smile falls.

They’re both shouting now, insults and voices rising over the cries of the hostages in the front of the bank, the gunman shifting nervously, screaming at them to shut up before he  _shoots-_

They don’t hear him. It isn’t until Wes shouts  _"NO WONDER YOU WERE NEVER ADOPTED. THEY KNEW HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU WERE GOING TO BE SO ALL THOSE FAMILIES AVOIDED YOU LIKE A PLAGUE. SADLY I WASN’T SO LUCKY-"_ when he hears a shout and a gunshot.

And then he sees his partner slump to the floor as blood stains his red Henley purple and steadily streams from his stomach. Wes can hear Travis’ shocked breaths and it seems like the world has muted and started moving in slow motion as Travis touches the wound and his hands come away stained red-

But he can also hear sirens in the distance. And he can’t seem to breathe, looking at his partner as Travis struggles for gulps of air as blood clogs his airway. He can’t  _move_ ,or  _breathe_  or  _speak_ and he’s in shock and  _oh my god Travis_ -

The blond tries to go toward his partner, hands reaching toward him to hold him and keep him  _safe_ -

And then he feels a bullet rip through his shoulder. It knocks him back and he’s staring at the ceiling.

And then he’s not staring at anything at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Wes doesn’t wake up for three days.

Travis doesn’t wake up for three months.

When Wes finally does wake up, and can comprehend more than the pounding in his own head, he is told that the low-lives who were holding up the bank were apprehended, but not without some casualties.

Three hostages have died.

His blood runs cold and he asks for his partner. He rages and throws things and hisses at nurses because they won’t tell him _anything_ , if Travis is even _alive_ -

"Your arm should be healed soon," The doctor says, voice firm as she peers at Wes’ arm ,swathed in a sling,"I won’t withhold any information about your partner from you, because you’re a police officer and you’ve been giving my nurses hell." Her brown eyes narrow," So I’ll just give it to you straight, Detective Mitchell. Your partner is in critical condition. Surgery was difficult. He suffered major blood loss. Internal bleeding." She looks at Wes,"He flat-lined twice."

Wes freezes. His mind betrays him and gives him a mental picture of Travis on an operating table surrounded by strangers and blood.  _His_  blood.

Wes imagines Travis’ heart stopping.

Wes imagines Travis’ heart stopping  _twice_.

Wes throws up in the trashcan next to his hospital bed.

He only stops when he is told that Travis is alive. In a coma, but alive.

He has the image of Travis’ wide eyes as his stomach leaks blood. The puddle growing bigger. He wasn’t smiling.

And so Wes stops smiling.

He doesn’t go back to work. He stays by Travis side and talks to him. He talks about any and everything. And he tries to keep himself stitched together.

~

On day two of Travis’ coma, Alex visits.

She walks in slowly, heels making sharp quiet noises as she approaches the bed. She cries when she sees her friend, gray and lifeless, blood seeping through his bandages and machines beeping.

Wes doesn’t stop talking to Travis.

She puts her hand on Wes’ shoulder and squeezing, asking softly why he’s speaking to a man who is asleep.

He swallows thickly.

"I read that coma patients can sometimes hear when you speak to them," he says, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes,"Sometimes someone talking to them is all the difference between them waking up or them never opening their eyes again."

The stitches he’s using to keep himself together are fraying.

She leads him outside the room.

She hugs him tight.

He comes apart in her arms.

He’s glad Travis can’t hear him sobbing into Alex’s blouse in the hallway.

Alex kisses Travis forehead as she leaves.

Wes continues talking.

~~

By the third day of Travis’ coma, he has finished calling all of Travis’ foster moms and siblings.

They shout and curse when he tells them what’s happened, not at Wes, but because they are scared and angry and a few of Travis’ foster brothers are bent on revenge. Almost all of them cry. The ones that don’t are murderously furious. He can feel the love for Travis pouring out of every voice that comes from the other end of the phone.

They come and visit. Not all at once, but they come in groups. He sees the biggest and toughest latino and black men cry when faced with the sight of their little brother, the one with the mischievous smile, wrapped in bloody bandages and laying completely still. 

Money almost punches a hole through the wall.

His sisters sob and kiss his face, some muttering in Spanish, one in Korean, another in Japanese. They hold each other and they hold Travis.

They hug Wes too.

His mothers bring Travis blankets and pillows and knitted quilts, to the point when they leave, there’s no trace of the standard pillows and sheets provided by the hospital. They had been stripped away and given to a nurse and replaced with his mothers homemade creations.  _To keep him safe_ , one said, patting Wes’ arm.

They’ve made Travis a little home here.

They also bring Wes food. They know he’s not eating. ‘ _A mother’s intuition’_  they say. He feels better when they hug him, even though they are not his mothers. They fill him with a warmth he’d though he’d lost.

Some of them have to leave, but they promise to visit again the next day.

Some stay the night.

Wes is silent. He doesn’t need to speak right now, there’s are so many people in the room that Travis doesn’t need his voice at the moment.

So he stays silent, and let’s Travis listen to the sounds of his family. He dozes off, and wakes up in the middle of the night to see Money and one of Travis’ sister’s ( _Her name is Hyoyeon_ , Wes remembers) speaking in Korean to one another. They’re both sitting on either side of Travis, speaking a  language Wes doesn’t understand, but that Travis most likely does.

He feels a fondness for Travis’ family and goes back to sleep.

~

He and Travis aren’t alone very often after that. There’s always family milling about, various languages being thrown around, but one day when Wes nods off next to Travis’ bed, he wakes up to a note saying that they had gone out to get something to eat and that they didn’t want to wake him, but they’ll bring him something.

There’s only one person that’s there, other than Wes.

Jonelle. 

She’s holding his hand and sniffling, but she smiles when she sees the blond man awake.

"Our idiot has gotten himself into some trouble hasn’t he?" She says fondly, thumb rubbing over Travis’ knuckles.

"Yea." Wes says, voice hoarse.

That’s all they say.

Jonelle stays for two days. She meets Travis family, and surprises them all by speaking fluent Japanese with one of Travis’ sisters.

She hugs Wes before she leaves, and promises to visit.

~

The captain stops by.

He speaks to a few of Travis’ mothers, telling them how amazing their son is. 

They didn’t need to hear that, they already knew.

They thank him anyway.

~

Alex visits again, with a new blouse for Wes to cry into in the seclusion of the hallway.

~

And so it goes on for a month. Then two.

Then three.

He’s losing hope.

His stitches are coming apart.

~

Travis opens his eyes three months and seven days later.

At 5:34 am.

Wes will never forget that date. Or that time.

He came alive again.


	3. Epilogue

"Wes, man-" Travis starts.

"Shut up, Travis." Wes grumbles, wrapping an arm around the squirming man and hauling him out of the passenger's seat.

"Dude, I got shot in the stomach, not my legs, I can walk on my own." Travis huffs behind a smirk.

Travis has been awake for two weeks. Two weeks Wes has been able to breathe and stitch himself back together again. He hasn't been left alone, Travis is here with him again. Wes would be embarrassed about how much he has been fussing over his partner, and Travis teases him for it, but _dammit_ , no one else was there. They didn't see the blood, or the shock on Travis face as the blood poured out of him, they didn't feel Wes' heart jump in his throat and the agonizing whisper of 'no' in his head as he watched his partner start to bleed out in front of him. No one else saw Travis laying in that hospital bed comepletely still, his bruised eyelids concelaing those blue eyes Wes has been looking into for years.

So yeah, Wes is fussing and freaking out a bit. Sue him.

"I'm starting to think you like me, man. Seriously." Travis teases as Wes drags him through the front door of his hotel room.

Wes can't help but think that he might be a bit right about that.

He dumps his partner on the couch and grumbles a soft, "Maybe".

Travis smirks and drags the blond onto the couch next to him by his blazer as he grumbles. The brown-skinned man moves toward him and presses a soft kiss to Wes' lips before the blond can react. It's far too quick, and when Travis pulls away, Wes finds he can't move.

"Thanks, Wes." he mumbles, face suddenly serious, their faces still close enough to feel each other's warm breath, "For not leaving. Thanks."

Wes' breath stops and he stares at Travis, before he leans in and kisses him again. The kiss is deeper this time, still soft but has that special _something_ Wes has been yearning for for a long time.

And now he's found it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> These two will be the death of me.


End file.
